


A Thousand Hearts

by butter_Stories



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Epic Friendship, F/M, I'm Bad At Tagging, Sad with a Happy Ending, Strangers to Friends, this is just a random fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-25 11:39:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12530484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butter_Stories/pseuds/butter_Stories
Summary: Matthias, a nineteen year old college student who is stuck trying to find his soulmate. Emily, (Emma), is an eighteen year old artist who has been told countless times she doesn't deserve a soulmate. in a world where what you write one your skin appears on your soulmate's skin, can they find love?I'm sorry, I suck at summaries





	1. a new heart awakens

Monday, October 3rd, 2016  
Hi voice inside my head, my name is Matthias, Matthias Kohler, as your probably know, since you are inside my head. And I study medicine and surgery at Birmingham university. I’m originally from Drammen, the reason I decided to study here once I moved out, was because I kept seeing my soulmate draw views from here on themselves. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention, my soulmate seems to really like to draw, and although I’ve never met her, I know she’s going to be an amazing artist. You might be asking; Matthias do you even know anything about this person? The answer is, no, but I just know, that she will be perfect, with her long straight brown hair, and flawless skin, her warm brown eyes, we will be perfect together. Now you are probably thinking didn’t he just say he never saw her? How does he know what she looks like? The thing is, I don’t, but by the lines and strokes she draws onto my skin, I can perfectly imagine her. The way the whole soulmate thing works, is that there is this thing called soulmarks, soulmarks are when one soulmate draws or writes on their skin and it appears on the other’s body, exactly where it was drawn/written. 

Sometimes I wonder, will I ever meet her? How far away is she? I’ve tried to talk to her by writing messages and questions on my skin, I know she can see the messages, but she only replied once. After I described myself and the things I like to do she replied with seven words written in thick dark blue paint; I know you, but you don’t know me. I’ve tried not to think too much about those words, but I can’t help it, what did she mean by that? That was a year ago, she hasn’t drawn again since, only random bored doodles. I’ve tried reaching out, writing, to her again, but… nothing. So now, I’ve been dating Mia for six months now, both of us have given up on the whole soulmate charade even if people are finding each other around us. 

Mia and I don’t have the best relationship, we both understand that we are together out of pure need, and that’s it, there is no love, no nothing. Moments ago, I had stormed out of the apartment, I couldn’t take the arguments anymore, I needed to be outside, away from a disapproving family and a hateful girlfriend. I know that we should sever our tie, we are toxic to each other, but I just don’t know how, I don’t have anyone else. I’m not a very extroverted person, so it’s hard for me to make friends. She was the only one that understood me, but now I wish I had put more effort into meeting new people. I look up to check where my feet had led me, out of instinct I had gone to Woodgate Valley country park, where I usually go to brood, I had grabbed my song book from the dresser when I stormed out. Like always, the moment I settle down, leaning against a tree by my usual creek, words start to pour from me. The lyrics expressing my betrayal, my heartbreak, and my loneliness. And that’s when I see her, she is sitting right across the stream, mirroring my position, notebook and all, except for the pallet of water colors near her knee, she’s drawing, tears dripping down her face, she had pushed her scarf down at some point, even though the autumn wind is chilly. The only thing I can think of is how beautiful she is, and how much I just want to go cross over to her and ask what’s wrong. 

 

 

<\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------><\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------->

 

 

“Emily, listen, sweetheart, I understand that this is your passion, but you have so much potential, why not study something else? Something sensible, like computer science or medicine? Those are interesting topics that you are good at and have a lot of potential jobs you could go to. We know you don’t want to disappoint us, so how about you just go an-“ I hung up the phone before she could utter another word. Valerie Madden, my mother, the control freak who had controlled every aspect of my life up until this point. Until I left for college, that was my escape, but thanks to the internet and phones she manages to micromanage my life even here. I was left friendless, and she managed to do all that from her apartment in Copenhagen, where she had moved to after I started university.

I continued walking, my mind wandering, there was this park that I liked to visit, and I like drawing and writing there, once in a while I see this guy there, he has black hair, and sky-blue eyes, once, after an hour of mindless sketching, I found that I had filled almost four pages with drawings of him. I decide to head to the park, pushing down my scarf when I felt like I was suffocating. But when I sat down near creek and start painting, the colors of the water and grass flowing onto the page, I found myself crying. Maybe the blow of the call had finally hit, talk about a delayed reaction. 

A tear stained the page, then another, finally I couldn’t even hold the paintbrush without it shaking and sending blue droplets splashing across the page. I was properly crying then, shaking, yet still silent, I squeezed my eyes shut, and felt a jacket being draped across my shoulders, and someone sitting down next to me. “Hey, are you okay?” A male voice asked, I opened my eyes, blurry with tears, and when I blinked them away and saw that it’s him, the boy who’s face now decorated the pages of a full notebook, I could feel my cheeks heating up. “Yeah, just got something in my eye” I mumbled, I saw a flicker of doubt is in his eyes, I quickly averted my gaze. “My name is Matthias, I study medicine at the university here, I think I’ve seen you on around at campus, what do you study?” he said, his voice was rich and deep like the autumn wind.I wiped my eyes on my jacket sleeve, “my name is Emily, I study creative writing here too.” I mumble. “well then Emily, are you ok? Because, it looked like you were crying.” He said, I felt as if he was being odd, who wants to be reminded that their crying? But… could it be? No, no way, it couldn’t be him, but it was the same sentence, the same name… No, it’s been years, and he died there, I’m sure.


	2. young love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> let's go back a bit, to a time when our hearts were simpler, when young love blossomed like flowers, and died just as quickly.

I was in middle school when everything started, it was also around that time that I started writing, expressing my emotions only to me, to gaurd myself, to keep it from happening again.  
The incident in particular that started all this started on a day that was so far from average I should have known something bad was coming. You were probably expecting me to say that it was a normal day, and that nothing foretold of the events that would take place. But as I said, everything pointed towards the horrible events that would take place. For starters, I overslept, that never happens, ever. 

When I woke up, the alarm long since snoozed, realized that I was late, and that Mr. Kirkland was going to give me detention. My first thought was that I would have to stay back an extra hour that would be spent in ‘silent study’. Back then, I had lived in a bubble and the worst thing that could happen was that I’d be grounded, so for me, this was a huge tragedy. But on that day, life decided to give me a wake-up call, forget call, life decided to give a wake-up slap, and boy, did I wish I had been braced for it. I quickly rushed to get ready, putting the blame on my mother who until then had always made sure I was awake. The thought of why she hadn’t done that today hardly crossed my mind. 

I made it to school, and as I thought I was given detention, I sunk down into my seat and started fiddling with my bangs. ugh, this lesson is so boring! I hated, and still do today, hate mathematics, so of course I wasn’t paying attention. I was scribbling in my notebook when a piece of paper landed in the middle of my desk, startling me out of my daze and making me jerk my arm, ruining the character I was working on. I slowly opened the crumpled paper, recognizing the sprawled writing and rolled my eyes. “what happened? Did miss perfect sleep in? are you finally in trouble?” it said, I rolled my eyes again and through the paper back to the person in question, a fit Danish transfer student whose hair refused to lie flat, no matter what jell I used. I pointed at the paper then mouthed if you laugh I will kill you. He smirked and opened my reply, leaning lazily back in his chair. His eyebrows shot up and his smirk widened. He folded a page of his notebook into a paper airplane and shot it to the front of the class, where it hit our algebra teacher; Arthur Kirkland, in the back of the head. needless to say, he gave the Dane detention too. 

After class we parted ways to go to our next lessons, we both had optional next. The idea with these lessons was that they were supposed to give us a wider range of subjects that we knew when we finished high school. He chose psychology, I chose English and literature. I think that is what inspired me to choose my degree, fatefully, he was the one who suggested that I choose that, so I have him to thank for where I am today. But back then, I thought was uncool, so I never told anyone of the notebooks filled with my stories, only he knew. My best friend, my only friend, Matthias Køhler. This was the last time we said goodbye, the last time I saw him leave voluntarily. 

We met up again at our French classroom, which was serving as the detention room that day, the alphabet on the wall and the pretty words for different desserts would soon be painted red. The nice smell of strawberries that wafted around the classroom would be tainted by the smell of death. If I could go back in time, and do one thing, I think that one thing would be to make sure Matthias wouldn’t go to detention. But, maybe this boy, this guy, who shares the same name and introduction as my long-lost friend is my penance, maybe that is why I have found myself drawing him day and night, unable to get his face out of my mind. 

Is this what it feels like, the regret of not reading the signs? I should have checked the news, should have wondered why no teacher came into the hall. Why this strange man who looked homeless came in. why he had a gun… and countless others. When he shot the ceiling, I realized that this was it, I was going to die. But Matthias, being the brave selfless hero that he was, rushed the guy, and before I could say anything, shouted “RUN!” So I ran. Like a coward, while a gunshot echoed through the empty halls. Why, why was this happening? What had we done wrong? I started praying, not to the heartless god the masses believed existed, but to mine, my gods, those who made the small creatures leave little presents on my windowsill, statues and shapes made out of twigs and leaves. At that moment, I realized that this amazing person, who had come into my life and changed it, making it bearable and amazing. This boy who was willing to befriend the school weirdo, to make it his mission to make her laugh at least once a day, even when she felt like the world was against her, or when they had a huge test. And he was gone, never will I see him again, he had died to save me, to give me a chance at the life he didn’t have. 

So I ran, and on the way out I pulled the fire alarm, running, as fast as I could towards the exit, and I never looked back. Never asked about him, about this boy whose face would be forever carved into my eyelids, I never listened when mother tried to talk about what happened, and to this day, I don’t know what happened to him. but as I looked at this man, who could have been that boy’s older brother, I realized, what if he lived? I lift my eyes again, to the boy with the same soulmark

“you’re him”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading this chapter, I'm working on the next few already, any comments are welcome, and please leave kudos, they really make my day ^w^

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, if you would like to make requests feel free to message me on my Tumblr account (same as my user here) I would also love to here feedback from you readers, I'm always trying to improve my writing.


End file.
